Gray

The next day I woke up in pain. I crept out from under the rags and crawled to the wall. I leaned back, tucking my head to the cold surface to catch breath. I'd hurt my shoulder when Dieter threw me aside as he'd stepped away from the cryosleep. I'd landed badly - the impact was palpable. It looked like I  dislocated it when fell. My arm worked, but a nagging pain plagued every attempt to move. Yesterday, when Dieter sent me away, I'd accidentally stumbled upon the cisterns. Four metal barrels full of rainwater were crammed into the corner of the courtyard. Even though I wasn't going to follow the alpha's command, I wanted to wash up. I threw off my clothes and plunged into the cold water. That's when I realized that the pain in my arm wasn't imagined, and was hardly the result of a short, strenuous swim. As soon as I leaned on the rusty edges, my left limb buckled, and I plunged into the water. Before I could close my mouth, I let out a squeal, swallowed the rotten water, got out, spluttering and swearing, and realized that the number of my problems hadn’t decreased with bathing. Only, in contrast to the sticky mud, the dislocation was a more serious problem - I didn't have much medical knowledge. I couldn't go to the hospital. The only remedy left was the same as always. The barn annex, which was the home of Dieter's gang, had a first level - the highest if to measure the ceiling - and two lower levels, where a tall guy could bearly walk. I had settled for the night on the third – top level –  above the kitchen, and now I was on my way down to the gathering place, as Zorm had dubbed it. I tiptoed past the second level, where the others were sleeping. I didn't want to wake anybody. Once I was in the common room, I quickly found a heap of bags piled up after last night's raid, among which my computer was stuck. I sat down on the couch tucking legs under me, and opened the case, entered the password, and the machine buzzed. I automatically noted that the battery was twenty percent dead. It was worth saving the charge until I figured out how to charge it regularly.   As I pondered my options, I had already entered a query into my browser, and now I was simultaneously opening links in search of what I needed. On the screen came an explanation of shoulder dislocation and how to fix it. There was a wide range of choices, but I needed a method that didn't require outside help. And there was one! After carefully reading the description, just in case, I looked through a couple of more pages to make sure the information was reliable. Then I put the computer away and sat down on the floor. I pulled my bent legs up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them so that my thumbs were pointing upwards. Then, as recommended in the instructions, I slowly leaned backward, pulling the ring of hands. The logic behind this manipulation is clear. When pulling, pressure is put on the shoulder joint, and it should move to the right position. In reality, it was a little more complicated than that. As soon as the injured muscles and ligaments were under pressure, the pain became unbearable, and I relaxed. I spent about fifteen or twenty minutes in futile effort. During that, all I achieved was a slight arrhythmia, profuse sweating, and uneven breathing, looking like a hunted dog. I wanted to hang my tongue on my shoulder and send everything away. Except that approach wouldn't work for me. Whether I wanted to or not, I had to deal with the trauma. Exhaling heavily, I pulled my arms out again and squeezed my eyes shut against the searing pain. Failed again. Relaxed abruptly and breathed in greedily, opening my mouth and eyes like after submerging. I noticed someone was watching my futile efforts. At the opposite wall, at the base of the stairwell – Dieter. Taking his time, he approached and commanded: ‘Lie on the floor, on your back.’ I didn't want to listen to him, I wanted to send him to hell, but so exhausted by empty tension, I just did as told. The floor was cold. I shuddered, but tried to suppress an expression of relief on my face from contact of my tortured shoulder and the cool surface. Dieter froze above me. The alpha seemed so huge that if he wanted to crush me, he must be able to do it easily. ‘Arm.’ I held up a limb. Next thing I knew, a huge boot was in my armpit. The alpha pressed down. I gasped, trying to pull away, but not before my arm was yanked at an angle. I jerked and groaned from the flaring pain. His leg was gone, and there was nothing to stop me from squirming on the dirty floor for my own pleasure. The sensation was sickeningly sharp. Instead of help, it felt like a piece of me had been ripped off. After five minutes, I found the strength to sit up. My head felt a little dizzy, my blood throbbing laboriously inside. My ass froze immediately, and I scrambled onto the couch, slumping onto the healthy half. Dieter was nowhere to be seen, but the noise coming from the kitchen, laced with profanity, left no doubt where the alpha was. I flinched when something behind the wall shattered, either to pieces or sideways. It wasn't hard to guess what caused it. Dieter was hungry, but he didn't seem to have found anything. In a dump like this that would be surprising. Zorm came down to the noise, followed by the others. After a few words, they decided to move out to eat and do what they talked about yesterday. When I got back from my morning wash, they were discussing how to deal with the nearest and smallest gangs. The plan was simple: kill the leader, take the rest of them along with their weapons and goods, if any. Those who disagreed would be killed on the spot. I was left to my own devices. After Dieter's help, I wanted to die, but there was no such opportunity in sight. It was worth considering a retainer for my arm. Alas, my limb would be useless for the next couple of weeks. After lying down for a while longer, on bent legs I went in search of what I needed. An hour later I had a couple of flat pieces of wood and some netting. I taped my left arm to my torso and decided that I had enough self-medication for the day. I was hungry. Gross or not, but I went to the kitchen. It was an even bigger mess than the day before. Dieter dealt with the bad mood, and at the same time had finished off whatever was left in the kitchen. I managed to open one of the windows, so the smell was less stifling and allowed me to rummage through the garbage. My loot was a couple of dried cookies and crumbs, one candy crushed in the cupboard, and a small jar of zucchini caviar. There was reason to be happy, except that it had expired three years earlier. I stashed the tin, despite the urging stomach, which hadn't seen food since last night's lunch at work, at Allgate. I ate a candy, snacked on a cookie, and hoped the alphas would bring something. Turns out they didn't. They came back at midnight. Dirty, battered, some were wounded, the rest of the blood wasn't theirs. Judging by the talk and the mood, there was nothing left of one of Greystadt's gangs. I didn't care about that. With more interest, I looked around to see if they were carrying anything. There was nothing in their hands, so I didn't congratulate them. I went up the stairs and fell aleep. No one paid any attention to me. I was awakened by a noise coming from downstairs. The others had got up earlier and must have been hanging around in the common room. When I came downstairs, I found the beta, the one carrying the bags from the sewers. His name was Greton. He looked to be about twenty-five. Medium height, blond, with a small ponytail and an elongated horse face. He wore the same clothes as the others - an old dark-colored jumpsuit. We exchanged glances of indifference. He went back to the wheelbarrows in the magazine open in front on his lap, and a cigarete. I walked over to the table. The large gray cardboard squares with colorful circles on the lids were hopeful. Bastards! I thought in angry disappointment when discovered the boxes were empty – I didn't make it in time for pizza! Where did they get it from this early in the morning? Zorm appeared in the room. Sweating, he looked about ten years younger: his stubble gone, face showing remnants of shaving cream. ‘Are you hungry?’ Bantered the alfa seeing me next to the cardboard; he was clearly in a better mood than I was. ‘Food has to be earned. What? You think we're gonna feed you for free? What the fuck were you doing yesterday while we’re dealing with this? You could have cleaned this dump.’ He said with a move of his chin, referring to the mess around him. ‘I wasn't hired as a housekeeper.’ Actually, it wasn't a problem to clean up the trash. But I felt so lousy yesterday, and gave zero fucks. Hunger didn't add much to my enthusiasm either. It was the third day I hadn't eaten properly. ‘And who were you hired to be?’ The alpha snorted contemptuously, looking me over from head to toe. At that moment there were voices. The alphas and betas came in. In addition to the ones I'd already seen, there were strangers of both sexes. All of them, like Zorm, were huffy and excited. They'd been hanging from the tourniquets in the courtyard since morning, as I quickly realized from scraps of their conversations. Push-ups, pull-ups; everything as it should be. Buzzing and measuring their biceps, knuckleheads. The conversation turned to last night's fight, then to guns and the next gang that was going to be beaten as the Black Dogs the day before. Dieter was surrounded from all sides. He rarely nodded, spoke briefly and to the point. Mostly he listened and watched, as if looking for something. There was nothing for me to do among them. There was no food. The smell of a bunch of sweaty alphas and betas was unpleasant to my nose. And I felt out of place, too. To be honest, I was a little scared. What if they decided to fuck me? According to gang law, you weren't supposed to touch your own. But those rules were old. The leader set the new ones, and God only knows what Dieter had in mind these days. So far I could be glad that they didn't touch me, but I had to eat, otherwise I was in danger of starving to death. By ten o'clock it was quiet downstairs - everyone had dispersed. I checked to see if anyone was left, and exhaled more freely when I realized I was alone. I thought hard about what I needed to do before I opened the computer - I didn't want to waste the battery for nothing. I quickly found the nearest diner where I could pay with card. After checking the route, I closed the computer, hid it away, and put on one of the hoodies I'd found among the clothes that littered the second floor. It smelled disgustingly, of alpha. I think it was Krent's. A deep oversized hood hid my face, and I moved out. There wasn't a soul around. Either the neighborhood was empty, or Zorm and his boys had scattered everyone when they took over the empty premises. It didn't matter too much, but it still played into my hands. I wandered out of the back pass and into the first crowded street. It was a strong exaggeration to call the rare people around a stream, and the street was more like a spacious alley. Dirty enough and quiet enough. But still inhabited. Staring at my feet, I headed toward the diner. It took me about ten minutes to cover a couple blocks, and I ducked behind the shabby doors of Friend's, a tiny place. The smell of food made my stomach rumble. I ordered, I think half the menu. Took my tea, pulled out card, paid, and sat in the farthest corner, waiting for order. It was like sitting on pins and needles, but I didn't want to starve to death. As soon as the tray was on my table, I greedily devoured the food. I gobbled it all up to the crust at record speed. And literally hovered over the tea, feeling my eyes closing with drowsiness. I didn't want to hurry, so I let myself sit over the cup for half an hour. Took some dessert and fresh cookies with me. When I returned, Zereb and a couple of strangers were in the common room. They didn't look welcoming. The beta was silent for a moment as he walked me up the stairs with a gaze, and continued talking as I rounded the corner. I took my time going up, and caught the general sense of what was going on. These guys – alphas and betas – were from the gang that Dieter and company had taken down the day before. I took a short nap upstairs, feeling the aching arm wear me out. Then I pulled up my computer and quickly logged on to the net to read the news. I was interested in the escape, but to my own surprise, I found nothing of that sort. Not a single mention that Dieter Pryde had managed to escape after twenty years of anabiosis. That was interesting. What purpose did Tyrathia have in not putting out a wanted notice for a dangerous criminal? Perhaps they intended to capture Dieter in the very near future. Or maybe they simply decided that the threat no longer existed. The world twenty years ago and now was very different and not in favor of a known troublemaker. The reasons could have been different. It was better to wait a while, and then look for information in other, more reliable sources... After munching on a cookie, I lay down again... And was not very happy to wake up from the kick. ‘What the...‘ Zorm was standing over me. The alpha stretched a nasty grin on his face. He was standing very close. If he wanted to shove his boot in my face, what would stop him? I tensed immediately, jerked back, sat up. I should have got up, but it seemed that if I moved, he would strike. My thoughts were racing at an incredible speed when I finally noticed a strange tinkling sound and looked away. ‘What the fuck is that?’ I looked down at the chain attached to my own leg. The ring of the handcuff was around my ankle, the chain extending from it, grabbing the edge of the pipe. I shifted my angry stare to the alpha. ‘A good chain for a pet dog.’ ‘You've got a nerve, don't you?’ A contemptuous smile broke the line of Zorm's mouth. ‘You gotta raise wild puppies somehow.’ ‘Jerk.’ I growled, making the alpha grin even wider. ‘That's what I'm talking about. You weren't allowed to leave camp and run around. Have you thought about what would happen if you brought a tail?’ Zereb must have told him I was leaving, and Zorm got another reason to get at me, besides the pigsty, which I couldn't clean up on principle now. ‘Unclasp it.’ I wasn't going to explain myself. If I was smart enough to get Dieter out of jail, and Zorm still didn't have the brains to appreciate the complexity of the task I'd solved, what could I say to him? He saw an omega in front, that's all. What could I explain to him? That no one could see my face because of the hood. I disabled the cameras on my route beforehand, by making a system error. Credit cards are registered to dead souls. ‘No way.’ He snorted. ‘Sit down and think about your behavior. Here's your potty, kid.’ Zorm said, kicking an empty whiskey bottle toward me. It rolled and hit my feet. ‘I'll come by tomorrow morning and see what you're up to. Trash won't clean itself up.’ He said, turning around and heading for the stairs. I sighed heavily, taking out the dessert I'd stashed. With my other hand, I picked up the chain and looked at the lock. A simple portable electromagnetic lock. Four ways to open it. The first was a key, which I didn't have. The second was blunt force; alas, neither was available. Third, a blade thin enough to drive into the third division from the left; that's the vulnerable point of a makeshift, spare parts for which were Tyrathi handcuffs. The fourth was the magnetic field. I reached for the comp. Some parts of the machine would definitely help me. The light had barely sunk its teeth into the night gloom when the alarm on the clock made me open my eyes. I got up, took off my shoes, picked up the chain I'd wrapped with duct tape in advance; I'd found it in Zereb's car the night before, when everyone had gone to bed. It didn't rattle now. The iron stairs and the concrete floor masked the sound of footsteps. I stepped unheard along the mattresses where the gang who had been celebrating last night were sleeping. The smell was disgusting, and the dirty socks... No wonder the first floor was such a dump. I counted eleven bodies. Zorm slept in the back by the wide doorway. I sank silently to the floor beside the alpha. Very slowly, I unwound the chain wrapped around my arm. I fastened one end to a nearby piece of iron. It was a loop in the wall, an advantage of old industrial buildings that was hard not to appreciate. The ring of handcuffs was more difficult. The alpha's ankle, sleeping in his boots, was too thick. I clasped the ring around his wrist; luckily I had enough length. I romeved the key from Zorm’s pocket, took the whiskey bottle out of my pocket and set it in front of the alpha's face, remembering to pee in it the night before. Zorm didn't even snort. I stood up, looking down at the work I'd done. A smile stretched across my face. I couldn't wait for him to wake up. As I was about to leave not caught, I happened to glance through the doorway where Dietre was sleeping. In the adjoining room, diagonally, about five meters away, the alpha was lying on a huge mattress. He wasn't asleep. Sprawled out on his stomach, he didn't look sleepy. He'd been watching me for a long time. The smile slid away. I tensed. Dieter hadn't blinked for ages. He didn't move, keeping the same unreadable expression on his face. Then he blinked. With one eye... He winked at me! With a chuckle, I broke the stare, looked down, and quietly walked out. Back on my cot, I couldn't believe I'd got away with it! But I guess I had. ‘What the fuck!’ Rang out from somewhere below me an hour later. Oh, man... I thought vindictively, throwing my working right hand behind my head contentedly. You have no idea who you're messing with.